


You Know You Shouldn't Fantasize About Your Boyfriend's Brother

by bearscp



Category: Collegestuck - Fandom, Homestuck
Genre: AU!College, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Anal Sex, Angst, Awkward situations, Cheating, Collegestuck, Drinking, F/F, F/M, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Switches POV, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-30 10:10:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearscp/pseuds/bearscp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Egbert, that's you. A smart boy, supposedly. Attending college, dating, fantasizing about your boyfriend's brother, studying, partying at Rose's, you know, normal activities for a guy your age.</p><p>This whole fic needs rewriting before it can be continued.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That Time You Wish You'd Worn Pants To Bed

It wasn’t even real.

There was no way in Skaia that this would be happening.

No.

No you abscond.

But there he was. Your closest friend’s brother. Hovering above you, with those damn anime shades and a cocky fucking lopsided grin on his face.

And worst of all, Dave was sleeping soundly right next to you, tuckered out from hours of making you read ‘Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff.’ Not only did your eyes sting now from all of poorly placed neon colors, but also from the thought of how proud your friend is about his comic. Brings a single tear to your eye at even thinking of the possibility of ignoring Dave’s pleas for attention.

Or wait, he’s an asshole.

You’re gonna tell him that when he wakes up.

It’ll probably be sooner than you think.

Dirk is still hovering, closing in on your personal space bubble, breathing quietly with that same smile on his face.

You finally realize your throat has these things called vocal chords that make sounds that a lot of people would probably understand. “Dirk. What the fuck are you doing?” Wow, not even a stammer. Good for you, John.

“Smuppet’s got claws.” You swear to God he winked behind those tinted glasses.

“Um, kitty’s, for one thing. For another thing, go be ironic somewhere else.” A huff.  Such sass, John.

Dirk scoffs a little and doesn’t bat an eye (you assume) when Dave scooches closer to you. That might be your fault. You may or may not have taken all of the blankets. No matter how hot out it is in this godforsaken place known as Texas, you’ve always got to have your blankets. A lot of people call you John ‘Icecube’ Egbert. Or wait.

No. No they don’t.

Though for some reason penguins love you at the zoo.

Anyway, right, that douche in your face. He’s talking again.

“But it’s so hot in my room. Let me get under the covers so I can keep chilly like you do Mr. Penguin.” Okay now his shades just flashed in a dark room. How the hell does he do that?

“Dirk, that wasn’t even ironic. You’ve failed us all, and I’m really not in the mood right n-.” Oh whoops. You didn’t notice did you? Didn’t think so.

“Dirk… Where are your clothes?” Your eyes widen a tad as you glance anywhere around the pitch black room that isn’t your best friend’s older brother.

“In my room.”

“Why aren’t you wearing them?”

“It’s hot.”

“But you just said you wanted blankets.”

“Yeah.”

You pause.

“Get the fuck out.”

Dirk feigns hurt, showing just enough expression with his shades, somehow. “You’ve wounded me. Do me a favor to make up for it.”

“What a lightning fast recovery there Dick, I-I mean Dirk.” You meant that as a joke at first, but then you looked down and well…

“Move over loser.” Dirk grabs for the blankets and whirls them up in the air. Before you know it you’re both underneath, his arms pulling you close to his chest, his erection against the back of your thigh just peaking up underneath your boxers, Dave is half on the ground but completely passed out-

Wait.

One of those things is not like the other.

“U-uhm, D-ick-irck, what… What is that… Uhm…”

“I’m horny, let’s fuck.”

You violently push yourself away by sheer willpower alone. Needless to say it didn’t work.

“You can’t be… Serious…” You shudder, his lips ghosting down from the top of your head to the base of your neck. Hot air creeps down in a tiny gust and you can’t help but tremble a little more. Dick’s dirk twitches… Err, Dirk’s dick twitches. Amazing how interchangeable those words are; reverse homonyms.

“When am I not serious, John?” And doesn’t the sound of your name against the shell of your ear just take your breath away.

Oh.

That was a tongue.

He just licked the base of your ear.

Huh.

That wasn’t… _completely_ horrible.

“Uh, all the time, how about?” _Brain, shut the fuck up and let body take the wheel please_ becomes practically a controversial r/atheism post in your head.

“You know you’re going just going to say yes. Give it up, kid. We’re fucking here and now.” He enunciates his point with a small rut against you causing hot tingles in its wake.

“Err… I… Uh… Dave.” You point at the cockblocker now completely on the floor sleeping.

“Just forget about that baby for a second. Let’s have some fun.” Ugh. Another rocking.

“I… I’ve never…” You almost whisper, hoping Dirk doesn’t hear your little secret.

But he does, and he flips you over, leaning in exceptionally close on one arm. He used the other to pull his anime glasses off and look you dead in the eye. Adoring dark auburn eyes met your own half-lidded and lustful blues. That wasn’t what you expected.

“It’s okay… Just let me show you…”

Dirk leans down to kiss you, stopping just before he makes full contact. You try not to squirm up to meet him.

“You’re not objecting anymore?” He looks a little incredulous, mixed with some joyous emotion, as he looks from your eyes down to your lips back up and rinse and repeat.

“Jegus just kiss me already-.”

And he does.

Lips touching softly, coolly, surprisingly. His mouth moves against yours making wet, lewd sounds echo in your ears. You hum in your throat a bit, before choking back a moan when he thrust his hips against yours. Apparently you had an erection now, too, and wasn’t that friction just the greatest feeling.

Dirk removed his mouth and licked around yours, in a little, tasting the edges and ridges of your teeth before diving in whole-heartedly. It felt good, really good. His pink organ kept searching around yours for another sensitive spot as you keen from the pressure on your back right molar. So that’s where you always chew your candy, so what? It brings back nice memories and candy and sex are basically the same thing.

Missing that previous moment of friction at the idea of bittersweet memories, you cant upwards hard, grinding into Dirk’s dick. Now it was his chance to moan and dear Vanilla Milkshakes did that feel good vibrating down your throat.

It wasn’t long before he decided he wanted to take control again,  hiked your boxers down quickly, and with the same motion threw your ankles over his broad shoulders.

He humps down, forward, and up, in that order. Over and over again, in a hopefully endless cycle. It just felt so amazing, so different, so mind-blowing that you didn’t even notice Dave’s voice yelling something incoherently.

Dirk kept frotting, harder, panting loudly and wetly still into your parted lips. Your cock ached from the friction but it almost wasn’t enough. You mimicked his motions, turning it into a mutual hump that shakes the bed enough to pound the wall.

“D-dirk…” You pant as you untwine your lips and move forward to gasp onto his neck.

“Not yet… Just…” He pushes down at your own thrusts harder and harder and harder still, rubbing just so that it leaves you wriggling for breath. “Okay… Let’s…”

Dirk grabs your dicks into one hand and pumps erratically out of sync with the thrusting.

“Come together…”

It’s too much for you.

So much for you that…

You wake up.

Just as you come.

Lying next to your boyfriend.

Dave.

You try to hold in the squeal, you really do, you know you should’ve, but as you shoot a hot load into your briefs you just can’t hold it back.

“D-Dirk!” You screech, reaching a hand up to bite it in half as punishment.

Dave shuffles and rolls over on top of you, almost completely asleep.

“Babe you say something?” He murmurs, his eyes starting to shut again already.

“Oh, u-uh, no. Nah man. Just, u-uh, go back to sleep.” You stare intently down at his now closed eyes. Don’t open them. Don’t realize what you just did. Don’t fucking do it Dave.

Don’t you dare.

“Hey John…?” He whispers.

Fuck.

“Yeah?”

“I know you’re so immature that you still get wet dreams and all but if you would mind not dry humping me in my sleep until you come in your little boy shorts that’d be great.” Dave rolls off of you, laughing hysterically to himself.

He’s out like a light thirty seconds later.

And as if on cue, a non-figurative light flicks on from what you can see under Dave’s bedroom door.

A shadow pauses outside, but after a moment of deliberation, keeps going.  You’re daze, disheveled, and dirty. Shadows don’t matter. When do shadows ever matter? At that moment you swear you heard a tiny cry of, “Nooooo….” from some ant’s shadow but you ignore it, choosing to awkwardly stand and race out the door to clean up in the bathroom.

But wait, fuck, the light’s on? Good fucking job this time, Egbert. Open the door, cum streaming down your left leg, a massive bite print on your hand, your cheeks flushed way too abnormally for something not to have happened if the cum didn’t give it away, and to top it off if you look back into the room Dave’s asleep. So what would that conclusion be?

You don’t have time to think about it as you run smack into Bro.

Oh.

Shit.

No.

Please.

No.

“’Sup.” He just towers over you nonchalantly, like he has a fucking reason to be standing outside Dave’s bedroom door this late at night. As if he… Heard something…

Your cheeks flare even more as you walk straight by him, mumbling, “Nothing,” and trying not to run to the bathroom.

“Take a shower, jack-off, whoops, I mean John.” Dirk snickers too knowingly.

Fuck.

Your.

Life.

 


	2. Guilt Ridden Sexual Hijinks

You avoid eye contact all the next morning. Usually that wouldn’t be a problem for you. Dirk never looked twice at you, probably only guessed at the relationship you had with his little brother, and always had his hands on some robotics whenever you were around. But today…

Today he was different.

Dirk purposefully would walk around the table or the couch to bump into you and not apologize. Not even acknowledge he’d done it, and it was obvious he knew what he was doing, too. That little shit. You look one way and there he was, gaze hidden by his anime shades, but you could feel his eyes searching you over regardless. That. Little. Shit. You told yourself the reason your face was flushed red was because of your anger. It had to be. What else could it be.

Dave didn’t seem to notice any of it, probably thinking his big bro was just being ironic again, and you were eternally grateful for that. The last thing you needed was your boyfriend mad at you over an innocent dream that wasn’t really innocent and made you see stars and clouds and hearts and other geometrical shapes. It wasn’t your fault you had a fantasy like that. It’s not like that kind of stuff is pulled from the subconscious. Doesn’t mean you have any hidden feelings towards the guy…

Right?

And yet as remembrance flashes through your mind, you find yourself standing up from where you were seated on the couch watching ‘Con Air’ with Dave again to scurry off to the bathroom like the night before.

Still dressed in just a pair of Ghostbusters boxers and a plain white T-shirt it isn’t too easy to hide the growth you’ve got going on downstairs, so you just kind of awkwardly hunch over a bit and discreetly whip a hand in front of your crotch on your way.

You see Dirk look up from his work in the kitchen and try to suppress a smile. Rolling your eyes and huffing you keep going along, until out of the corner of your eye you see Bro start to rise out of his chair, still staring intently. Your pulse picks up to a speed that felt faster than Bec dodging bullets; your breath comes out shallow as you carefully keep stepping forward towards your destination. It’s in that moment that you realize Dirk is about to follow you. The reason why is entirely unclear to you.

You near the bathroom door, aching to relieve yourself after the accidental jostles from your own hand have sped up the forming tent. 

Warm fingers grip your wrist that’s reaching for the doorknob, pulling it up to lightly peck the back. Gulping, you turn.

Wait, fuck. Dave is right in the other room. What if he sees? Wait, shit. Sees what? You’re not doing anything wrong. Nothing’s happened at all. What would happen? Nothing. Not a thing. You turn to blatantly tell the fucker to step off.

Your heart drops a little at the sight of Dave holding your hand to his lips. You thought… Oh that motherfucker. You peer down the end of the hall. Dirk’s leaning against a door frame, smirking, arms crossed. The peer turns into a glare as Bro lifts a finger to his mouth like he’s shushing you.

Wrenching your eyes away you put your attention back on Dave who hasn’t seemed to notice Dirk watching them. You move and throw open the bathroom door, pushing Dave inside, flashing a rude grin back at Bro, and locking the two of you in.

When Dirk’s home you and Dave never do much, or try not to, or at least keep your mouths shut when you are committing sexual acts. But not this time. That douche deserved what he was about to hear.

You reach inside the medicine cabinet to grab lube and a condom. With your thoughts finally on your actual boyfriend you notice Dave looking up at you from the edge of the tub, just sitting there, looking a little breathless. He usually does that when you take charge; it lights him up even more. As you glance down you see he’s got a matching tent to yours. You toss him the lube after you’ve globbed some onto your own palm and rubbed it over your now condom-ed dick.

“Get yourself ready.”

Dave just seems shocked as he squints his eyes up at you.

“But Bro is right in the kitchen dude!”

Now you squint.

“It’s fine, he won’t hear. We’ve been in worse positions before.” You snicker at your own contextual joke you threw in there.

Dave kinda looks torn between embarrassment and wanting to go along with your plan, so you edge him along with a few kind words you know he’ll listen to.

“Do I have to get the smuppet, Dave? Do you want that?”

He widens his eyes and finally listens to you. Standing to take off his red stripy boxers but leaving his typical-Davey shirt, he flashes you an annoyed look before squirting lube onto a few of his fingers. He coats them, takes a deep breath, and pushes one digit in, breath hitching despite the previous inhale.

You find it oddly easy to resist the urge of touching yourself at viewing Dave’s movements. Your boyfriend pushes in, curls his finger, stretching as much as he possibly can before yet another slips in to start the scissoring. Using the time obviously, completely, and utterly wisely, you think back to Dirk. You wonder if he’s still in the hall, or if he’s listening, or if he even cares. Why would he care, honestly? The dick’s been hypothetically fucking with you all day. Any hope and doubt you had earlier that Dirk hadn’t heard you last night flew out the window, crashing to the ground with a figurative katana stuck through it. Had he not he would’ve been ignoring you like every other time you’ve come over or spent the night at the Strider apartment. What if he kept screwing with you? Dave would notice eventually and wonder what the fuck was up.

But wait you silly, silly bastard.

You’re the pranking genius! The god of all tomfoolery! The master of all that is _shenan_ and _igin!_

If the dick didn’t let up, you were going to get him back. Good, fast, and hard. Err, pick better adjectives next time there John.

In this moment, you knew how to take this to the next level. How to be so painfully ironic it was almost sincere. Even if you didn’t see the irony, you knew Dirk would find something about it that would make it so therefore burning him hotter than the motherfucking Green Sun.

Bring it on, douchebag. Bring. It. On.

Oh, shit, Dave was done. Patiently waiting for you perched on the edge of the tub. You don’t give him any more time to prepare. You trudge the short distance between you, lift him up (oh John just look at you, being so strong, remember when you were a chubby thirteen year old getting hit on by gay trolls and hiding in the closet?), flip him, bend him over so his hands are flat against one of the walls, and press into him. Not a style you would usually use but this wasn’t just for recreation… This was for…

(You mentally put on shades.)

Your pranking name.

( _Yeahhhhhhhh!)_

That and you may or may not have wanted to just see a mop of frazzled, pale blond hair without dark red eyes or Dave’s particular face.

You realize you weren’t paying attention when you feel your boyfriend clench around you, sliding back on your cock to gain more friction. You grip his hips hard, leaning over his body and nipping his neck. As punishment you thrust in all the way, pushing your crotch a little down and in given the angle and start at a surprisingly slow pace.

Dave looks like he’s in pain, not that he minds, when he lifts up his shirt to bite it, almost losing his balance. His moans are muffled, a few cracked, short groans slipping out at the pull of your hips. You couldn’t have that could you. Dave yet again squeaked and gnashed his teeth harder. You supposed he didn’t want his bro hearing, though he must’ve not heard your own obnoxiously loud panting and moans above him or else he would’ve tried to punch you to shut up. Of course that would’ve stopped all this and then you’d both be fucked, but not in the good way.

You pull out completely to whip off Dave’s shirt. To rule out any other possibilities you grab one of his wrists and hold it behind his back so he still has one to support himself with. Now he had nothing to block out his cries. Nothing. At. All. And you were so going to take advantage of that. After all, what are friends for?

You push back in, focusing more on power this time than rate, as the wet friction speeds you up all on its own. You hit Dave’s prostate dead on, knowing exactly where it is after many sexual encounters before and after you started officially dating. This was it, you get to have your reward… Your eternal reward… John. Stop quoting Aladdin in your head. Focus on the erotic hijinks at hand.

“Holy motherfucking shit John holy fucking GOD in fucking HEAVEN how the f-fuck what the f-fuck how do you do this EVERY FUCKING TIME it’s so fucking good holy shit don’t stop don’t you fucking DARE s-stop fucking fuck me HARDER I know you can do it Egbert so you b-better fucking D-DO IT.”

Music to your ears.

You comply without much thought, plans thrown out the window though they’ve basically been accomplished by this point.

It isn’t long after that Dave’s shouting more obscenities and rutting back against you that you feel the quake of his legs as he nears his orgasm. “JOHN GRAB MY FUCKING DICK RIGHT NOW.” Again you comply without much thought, reaching around to tug it hard and fast like your thrusts. Soon Dave tightens around you, his semen shooting out in ropes onto the bathroom floor. “JOHN JOHN JOHN John John…” You feel yourself getting to that point as Dave starts to slump towards the ground, unable to hold himself up any longer.

You wrap your now cum covered hand up and around Dave’s torso to hold his chest in an attempt to keep him upright. Somehow it worked., and you continue, panting louder than before, moaning even louder, groaning ever more louder. Your own noises spur you on to speech as you finally and blissfully reach your own climax. You punctuate each loud word with a thrust. “Dave, I, Love, You.”

The heat unwraps in your stomach and shoots into your boyfriend. You fall ass-backwards onto the ground with Dave on top, still connected. White still controls your vision, but you can focus enough to hear. After you feel bad you heard it. You wish that you didn’t try to get him back with making his little brother moan. You wish you weren’t such a prick as you painfully listen to the front door of the apartment slam shut heavily enough that it shakes the floor all the way to the bathroom.

You actually feel bad and guilty as hell, picturing that muscled, slighter taller than you, spiky haired and shade-wearing, black tanktop-ed and orange boxer-ed Dirk being forced out of his own house. You gulp as you realize you still hadn’t pulled out of Dave. After you do you throw the used condom in the bin, not bothering to really clean up, and pull the youngest Strider closer to you on the warmed tile floor of the bathroom.

But one thing does strike you as a little odd, or maybe it’s just your imagination.

If Dirk was upset by the noises Dave was making, why did he leave right after your words and not a moment before? 


	3. John: Be The Arrogant, Ironic, Voyeuristic Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recaps, attempted masturbation, and a new character!

Fuck fuck fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck.

No. Bad. Nope. You can’t. You won’t. 

And yet you tried.

You went and tried to, well, even you aren’t really sure what you tried to do in your current inebriated state. 

Guess that means we need to recap, don’t we?  
\---  
At first you didn’t mean to, honest. You just hopped up to get a glass of orange juice, that was it. Nothing more and nothing more than more. But no, you just had to investigate the noises echoing through the apartment. Had to stroll up to Dave’s door and press your ear to it. Had to face the fact that the panting coming from inside made you flustered enough to almost trip over yourself. 

Especially when you realized who was voicing the noises… and who was voicing your name in turn with a loud and breathy exhale.

Oh that was bad.

You walked away, finally flicking on the light, headed for the glorious drink that is the juice of oranges, when something stopped you. Not physically, no, but you got this feeling tight in your stomach that told you to go back. 

So you do, and as you passed Dave’s door, John stumbled out and smacked into you, balancing precariously on one foot to avoid more contact before jumping back when he saw who it was. Honestly though, who else could have it been?

He looked up at you, the height difference painfully obvious, his cheeks flushed and hollowed out in an openmouthed pant, glasses wherever he left them before he went to sleep, hair disheveled and sticking up in exactly four different directions, and his eyes. 

Dear Doc Scratch his fucking eyes. Looking down at him they were half-lidded, wild with fear and excitement and embarrassment. Crackling blue energy bounced around his irises.

John only wore thin Ghostbusters boxers with a shirt that stuck to him in the heat. The briefs showed an obvious outline of a half-hard on that looked almost like it was getting better, er, worse, by the moment. There was release dripping down his leg and not only could you not believe he’d actually walked out of Dave’s room like that, you couldn’t tear your eyes away. You’d never been happier to have worn your shades as you kept raking over his toned frame.

It took every ounce of your strength to not move, to not bowl over this kid who you’d never even played Tony Hawk Pro-skater 2 with. He’d never interested you before, so why now? Maybe you’d never looked at him long enough, or hard enough, never saw the humor and joy thinly shielded by the kid’s blown pupils. 

Or maybe it was because at a glance he reminded you of Jake.

Your heart constrained and you stopped breathing for a second.

No, you decided. It was because your little bro had way too obvious of feelings for him. That’s why you never got to know John, because what if, you know? That had to be it.

Oh shit, stop thinking. The kid was just staring up at you. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Be cool. Be ironic. Be a Strider dammit.

With every bit of irony you could muster, you thought of what to say.

“’Sup.”

John shied away, turning his head to not make eye contact, before he mumbled, “Nothing,” and started down the hall walking suspiciously fast.  
Okay now you understood why Karkat and Dave always talked about his ass. It was so perfectly plush, and yet it was thin. How was that even possible? 

How. 

You’d love to compare it to a smuppet sometime-

Wait, fuck, say something else so clever John’ll run back and beg you to teach him your ways of being the master of all life.

“Take a shower jack-off, whoops, I mean John.” 

Nailed.

It.

He didn’t turn back, much to your disheartening. 

Now that you were alone, you peered into Dave’s room who was totally dead asleep and missed everything that just happened. Relieved though you did nothing wrong, you headed to the kitchen to get that sweet nectar.  
\---  
And that’s not even the end of it. 

Not even close.

You did something much, much worse.

You actually were going to do something about what you’d seen the night before. You really were, and that’s probably the lowest thing you’ve ever done, or thought about doing, especially considering you knew how Dave felt. 

You stood from the kitchen table, ready to follow John who was on his way to the bathroom with an annoyingly obvious boner. You took one step forward, just one, and hesitated. Before you could continue Dave sprinted past.

It really was your own fault you got your kokoro all in a twist from missing an opportunity. If you hadn’t moved you would’ve been fine, but no, you just had to act on impulse. 

And again, you acted on impulse.

You skulked out and leaned on the frame at the start of the hallway. Crossing your arms you attempted to be as aloof as possible, be cool, be ironic. You guessed it worked when John noticed your presence and glared so angrily it was almost attractive. You lifted a finger to your lips shushing him.

But then he shoved Dave into the bathroom with a wicked expression, slamming the door to lock them both inside.

You’re a little dumbfounded by that. It wasn’t long before you heard more sexual sounds coming from the kid and against your better judgment you crept forward. Pressing close to the door you listened in, a blush spreading over your face and ears. 

Dammit you were twenty-eight for GCat’s sake. You shouldn’t be standing outside of a bathroom door palming yourself to the noises your brother’s ‘boyfriend’ makes, and as much as you tried to not think about it, your brother too.

Not that you hadn’t been hearing that for the past seven years anyway.

Ugh, no, stop thinking about that, Dirk. Massive boner killer.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] \--  
TT: Hey.

You nearly jumped out of the half-off boxers you’d just started to pull down.

TT: Holy shit man you scared me.  
TT: It seems that there is a high probability you are doing something you shouldn’t be doing or even entertaining the thought of.  
TT: I really don’t think that’s any of your business.  
TT: Since I’m you, we think it’s our business.  
TT: I can’t deal with your ironic bullshit right now. I’m busy.  
TT: Gross. Just listen for a second.   
TT: That’s what I’m trying to do.   
TT: Again, gross. Just hear me out. 

You sighed heavily. 

TT: Ugh fine.   
TT: There are so many levels of wrong here that not even I with my precision and mathematical visionary can compute them all.   
TT: Fuck you.   
TT: You said you’d listen.   
TT: I’m regretting that.   
TT: Whatever. Anyway, you can’t honestly think that what’s happening right now is a good idea. Look at yourself objectively for a change. 

And you did, and as much as you hated to admit it, he’s right, or you’re right.

This wasn’t right.

But the hell if you cared when you heard John groan exceptionally loud.

TT: Can you stop trying to get off for two seconds please?   
TT: We both know the calculations on that one.   
TT: Oh no. Do you see what’s happening?   
TT: Uh oh. I can’t control my arm.   
TT: There it goes.   
TT: Don’t you dare take me off.   
TT: At least I’m not getting off, right brobot?   
TT: Fuck you and everything that ever is or will be you.   
TT: So yourself then also?   
TT: …Yes.   
TT: Alright, see you later. 

You tossed the shades aside and finally got down to the business at hand. Literally.

You mentally blocked out your little bro and focus in on John’s panting. You took yourself in hand (told you), beginning to slowly pump up and down the shaft. Taking in the feeling wholeheartedly, you leaned against the bathroom door. You bit your lip to keep quiet, and continued your motions with a slight roll of your hips.

“Fuck…” You breathed out.

But sadly, any possibility of climax was not yours to have. You heard Dave start shouting, and therefore your guilt at the same time. Begrudgingly you pulled your soft member back inside your boxers. You try to scurry away as quickly as you can but not before you heard John scream ‘I love you’ to Dave.

Feeling absolutely sick to your stomach, you bounded up the stairs, threw on dark jeans, an orange hoodie, and a leather jacket, grabbed your keys and wallet, and stormed out the door to go find a good place to get wasted. 

You gunned down the street on your motorcycle without a helmet, not just because you didn’t want Hal getting into your business again, but because you almost wanted to get caught.

Sadly, you weren’t.  
\---  
Now seated at a bar you realize everything you did and shouldn’t have done crash around you in waves of supposed alcoholic bliss. 

“Dammit…” You whisper to yourself as you down another shot, much to the surprise of the bartender. 

“Hey buddy, you might want to slow down a bit, yeah?” The guy tells you nicely, almost worriedly. 

“I’m payin’ for it, so I’m gettin’ it. ‘Nother shot.” You throw down some cash, noticing how much thicker your accent has already gotten.

“Alright, mate. Just wanted to see how you were doing.” The bartender walks away, and you notice his ass. You didn’t notice before, but he looks more your age than anything else.

As he heads back with a bottle you focus on his face, trying to see through the blur of your hazed out mind. 

“Oh fuck me. This isn’t happening right now.” You groan and lay your head on the bar.

“We haven’t seen each other in years and that’s how you greet an old chum?” Jake grins. You don’t see, but you can fucking hear it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I work here.”

“Why do you work here?”

“I moved here.”

“Why did you move here?”

“Well Jane said she wanted to-“

You interrupt him and lift your head up. “You can stop now. I’m all set on knowin’ about your personal affairs.”

His grin falters for a moment but comes back with more force. “I’m surprised you can actually talk right now. But anyway, we thought we should move back closer to our friends and get back in touch.”

“You stopped talkin’ to Roxy too?” You huff, but your heart ached. You’d originally been the one to say you needed to not go back to friends right away when he’d realized how he’d felt about Jane, but once you were finally okay with it, Jake wouldn’t respond to your pesters, and eventually, you gave up.

Jane always did, because she’s a nice girl, but the conversation would quickly get awkward. You didn’t have much in common anymore. Thankfully, Roxy was always there for you.

Jake grimaces, and you’re glad you hurt him. “No, uh, no.” He pauses. “Actually, Jane kind of… Well, Jane and I broke up a few months ago. She realized that we were more like siblings, and the more I thought about it, the more I agreed.” Another hesitation. “Her and Roxy are… Well…” 

Roxy didn’t tell you any of that, but now that you think about it, why would she? She was probably just trying to avoid that subject like everyone else did when they were around you. 

But now Jane and Jake were broken up, and you knew about it, and most likely Jane and Roxy were now a thing, but that didn’t matter at the moment either. 

Jake was single.

He doesn’t continue his sentence, or seem to know what to say next so you supply it for him.

“When do ya get off?” You mentally beat yourself in the face because that really wasn’t what you’d planned on saying. You’d wanted to throw something at him or punch him and walk out.

He perks up. “Soon! Like, not even ten minutes.”

“Good, I’ll be here.” You throw your head back onto the counter.

“Always the romantic.” Jake laughs as he goes to serve another customer.

On his way back by you grab his arm, pulling him down into your personal space. You stop your hunched depression over the bar and lean up, catching his mouth in yours roughly.

You move back. “How much longer?” 

He blushes insanely and looks around at the people staring. “I can go now.”

“Good.”

Jake comes out from around the bar, taking off his apron, and you steady yourself with an arm thrown around his waist. 

“I brought my bike.”

“Like you can drive anyway. We’ll take my ride. I’ll put yours in the back.”

“Thanks, and don’t say ‘ride,’ you can’t pull it off.” Jake opens the door to the bar, laughing so adorably loud that you feel it shake his chest, and helps you walk out of it. He again opens a door, this time to whatever the hell kind of car he has, and slowly pushes you inside.

Before he turns to move your motorcycle, he says something you can barely catch through the haze. “I missed this” or maybe it was “I’m sorry.” Maybe it was both, you’re not too sure.

And then the door is closed and you’re alone in an unfamiliar vehicle with too familiar feelings.


	4. You Should Really Get Better At The Whole "Pushing People Away" Thing

He didn’t come back that night, and for the life of you you couldn’t sleep.

Dave eventually kicked you out of his bed, leaving you for the relatively uncomfortable futon. You laid there, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what the hell Bro’s problem was. Like seriously, what the fuck. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was a prank that barely registered on your resume.

Plus he’d been goading you. Shots were fired. You just retaliated.

You huff, rolling onto your side, trying to summon the motivation to turn on the TV at least. Sadly it was not meant to be as you just flop onto your other side and stare hard into the back of the futon, mentally cursing it for not telling you what you must’ve done.

Sighing you close your eyes and drift off into dreams of saving worlds and fighting imps.

* * *

A loud crash startles you awake. You stumble to sit up and fall to the hardwood floor.

“Shit,” you whisper, pulling yourself up to stand.

You look around for the source of the noise, and find it crumpled in front of the door.

“Jegus, Bro. What the hell?”

He’s slumped forward and barely raises his head at your words. “What?” His voice is slurred, his clothes are messy, and his eyes are bloodshot.

Oh shit his shades were off.

His irises weren’t how you pictured. They were orange, somehow. Bright orange, much like his character from back when you all played SBURB. You didn’t think they were actually that color, but the proof was undeniable. Had to of been contacts.

“Where were you?”

He snorts. “None of your business, pipsqueak.”

You frown. Why did you even bother to ask, really. You barely talk to the fucking guy.

“Yeah nevermind. Whatever.”

You flop back onto the futon face first, ignoring Bro’s noisy, feeble attempts at standing. You hear him fumble onto the floor, his quiet cursing in hard contrast against his loud limbs. You snicker inwardly, still feeling a little guilty which was pretty much the only reason you weren’t bursting out with an obnoxious laugh.

Another few stomps and he’s tripping. You turn your head to look just in time to see him fall on top of you.

You groan as his heavy weight is pressed onto you, his height and muscles pressing you into the cushions. It hurts like hell, and though you’re not exactly a stick, you can’t manage to throw him off.

“Bro get up. You’re crushing me, fuck.” You breathlessly say.

“’m sorry.”

His voice vibrates your back, his accent millions of times thicker than usual. He manages to push himself up onto his forearms but doesn’t move further than that.

You glare up at him. “Well?”

At this distance you can make out in the half-dark that his eyes were also rimmed with red. His face was blotchy, and you knew it wasn’t from the alcohol you could clearly smell on him. Your gaze softens just a bit.

You move from partially on your side to your back, ready to push you both into a seated position and shoosh pap the fuck out of the guy. He wasn’t your best friend, or your boyfriend, but dammit if you didn’t feel bad for him. You didn’t think Dave had even seen this guy cry before.

You sigh. “What happened-“

He interrupts you with his mouth on yours. Hard.

You barely get a breath in, and when you try to get one through your mouth he shoves his tongue inside next to yours, twirling them together.

You clench your eyes shut. No, this wasn’t happening. It was just another dream. None of it was real. You’d wake up awkwardly in a few moments with another pair of soiled boxers. Yeah that’s what’s going to happen. Definitely.

But it doesn’t.

Bro keeps his mouth against yours, sloppily pressing his lips as far as he could get them. Teeth scraped against your own with loud clicks but he didn’t seem to care. Hell you weren’t even sure why you hadn’t done anything yet.

His palm comes up to rest against your cheek as he shifts his knees up along futon until your crotches are pressed firmly together. He starts slowly humping down onto you, keeping with the macking and barely giving you a chance to breath. It was almost like your homoerotic dream, except without the whole him being naked and all perfect at it kissing and Dave lying next to-

Oh holy shit what the fuck are you doing John. This is your boyfriend’s brother. Snap the fuck out of it. Have you been kissing back? What the actual fuck.

A little voice screams inside your head and you bring your hands up between you and Bro as much as physically possible and give him a violent shove.

Bro bounces back, catching himself on the back of the futon before he could fall off. He looks bewildered, confused, and more than a little turned on. Actually, it looks like he’s going to cry. Most likely for the second time that night.

You pull yourself into a seated position, leaving the middle cushion as border between you and him. He doesn’t meet your eyes, and you’re not sure if you even want him to.

“Dirk…” You say hesitantly while having no idea where you’re going to go with that sentence.

He flinches. You aren’t even supposed to know that name.

He rubs his face with the back of his hand, leaning down onto so his eyes are hidden. He starts to sniffle just a little bit and slight tremors are wracking his shoulders.

Oh God you’re seeing a grown man cry. Oh no this is way worse than when your dad got teary eyed at your graduation. This was like fucking desperate sadness with no hope in sight. Oh God.

You don’t know what to do, honestly. You just sit there as his shakes become more obvious and his sniffling more frequent. He doesn’t release any kind of sob, but you think that may be the one thing he’s trying his hardest to keep back.

Mentally you prepare yourself with the best acronym known to man. Yolo.

Dave would be so fucking proud.

You scooch closer to him, bridging the gap, and pull him across you so he can bury his face in your shirt.

He tenses almost immediately but a few pats to his back and he’s got his arms wrapped around your middle in an awkward position, for him anyway. That’s when the trembling really picks up. You thought it was bad before and clearly you were mistaken. Especially when yeah he does start to sob and hiccup and you feel your shirt dampening from his tears and let’s face it probably drools since his mouth must constantly be open to be crying like that.

You run your other hand through his terribly disheveled hair that’s still trying to stay slicked back in some places. He doesn’t make a move to stop you.

Slowly he calms down under your touches and yep he totally fell asleep slouched against your chest. Grown-ass man your _ass_.

The best part is there’s no fucking place to move to without waking him up so you just lay there, head bent uncomfortable over the back of the futon with an almost thirty year old man sprawled on top of you.

The morning didn’t come soon enough.

 

**== > John: be the narcissistic cool kid with rad shades**

 

Your name is Dave Strider, and yeah you’re royally fucked.

See, a few days ago you had an incredibly fucked up dream and you woke up yelling. Thankfully your boyfriend didn’t hear anything, and you managed to fall back asleep. Only probably twenty minutes later you’re awake again because of that same boyfriend humping your leg while completely asleep. Ignoring it because you’re just that cool, again you doze off, and again he wakes you up by practically hollering something you couldn’t remember.

Your badass self couldn’t miss a moment to spring a joke on him, so you did it, and passed back out.

But that’s not why you’re royally fucked, Not at all.

The real problem is that dream? Yeah it was the same kind John was probably having. And whoah guess what, it wasn’t about John that’s for sure. As a matter of fact, it was about a friend of yours, if you could call him that. You guess that when he wasn’t shouting at everyone or being a fuckass he was pretty okay for the most part. You’d never thought about him that way, though. Like ever.

You’d been with John for the majority of your post-pubescent life and fantasizing about other bros just wasn’t cool in your book no matter the situation. So why it was happening now, you weren’t sure.

Dwelling on it as much as you have, you’re thinking of all the little things you’d been pushing to the back of your mind lately.

How this shouty friend of yours had been looking at you. How he’d been pestering you more. You’d actually talked a lot on the phone over the past month and hung out more times than you could count.

For some reason, you never thought to tell John. Even went out of your way a few times to make sure he didn’t know. You weren’t positive on why you did that, but now you had a sickening feeling that shit was about to hit the fan.

You figured all this out after you’d been literally fucked. In your bathroom. By John. With Bro in the kitchen.

When John said he’d loved you it made you feel… odd. Not like how it used to with the whole sparkly unicorns prancing around in your tummy. Nah this was the kind of odd that was like yeah he’s got a mustache now and nobody like it but will never tell him.

You may or may not watch British television to seem cooler to your Bro. That may or may not be a thing.

Anyway, right, back to the royal fucking you are going to receive. Because if you’re feeling sick over your boyfriend saying he loves you and hanging out with your friend who almost seems pissed off 24/7 behind his back, then something is seriously wrong.

And something even more wrong was when you walked into the living room scratching your side and headed to the kitchen for some AJ. No that wasn’t the wrong part, it was what happened next. Or happens, really.

You walk back into the living room and glance at the futon, ready to awaken the dorkiest of all sleeping beauties and shovel your problems to the back of your mind when you notice the wrong thing. It’s like one of those I Spy books. Point out the wrong fucking thing in the picture and you win nothing but false pride.

You take a sip of your juice, whispering, “I Spy” to yourself before quickly getting a tighter grip on your drink so you wouldn’t drop it on the floor because oh fuck you found what was wrong in the picture.

Except instead of false pride your feeling even sicker than you were when figuring out you were a breath away from cheating on your boyfriend.

Bro, your bro, your brother who fucking raised you, is laying on top of John, they’re arms wrapped around each other in their horizontal embrace. Bro is totally bigger than John so you had no clue how the dork wasn’t being crushed, but you could hear him snoring so that must’ve counted for something.

What was making you the most nauseous was that Bro had his mouth nuzzled into John’s neck. Oh nope it wasn’t that actually. It was the fact that John was only in his boxers and Bro was fucking naked. Cuddling your boyfriend. _Naked._ In case you didn’t understand that before.

You take the apple juice, silently begging the gods to forgive you, and you walk over to the futon. You pour the bottle upside down onto the both of them, almost instantly jerking the two of them awake.

You groan before throwing the container right at Bro’s dick as he sits up. He didn’t even have his fucking shades on. That was more explicit than anything.

“D-dave?” John squeaks, shoving Bro the rest of the way off of him. He looks Bro up and down who had by now thrown a blanket over his crotch, then looks at himself before meeting your eyes. “Dave it isn’t what it looks like, I swear. He-“

“I don’t want to fucking hear it, Egdick. Just go back to your own fucking place and don’t say another word.” You spit at him. You didn’t realize how angry you were given all the vomit you were trying to hold back.

“Dude, no, listen to me-“ John tries again.

“Get out. Now.” You grab a few empty bottle from the coffee table off to your side and throw them at John. They smack off of him onto the floor. He holds his hands up to try and block them but it doesn’t really work.

“Fine!” He stands, walking around to pull on his clothes that were discarded on the floor.

Bro fixes you with a cold stare but you ignore him in favor of walking back into your room.

It’s another good ten minutes before the door shuts to the apartment. He didn’t even slam it. Bro must’ve said something to him to cheer him up. Good they’re acting just like a fucking couple.

You lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling and kick off all of John’s clothes and extra pair of glasses from it. You were pissed, but honestly just taking it out at the two of them because you were mad at yourself for not being mad at them. It was a complex circle, and it barely made sense, but you got it nonetheless. It made you realize that whatever the hell was going on with your feelings about John over the past while, that something was going to change. And if it did, you’d lose John not just as your boyfriend, but as your best friend too.

It was then you started to cry.

Actual weeping. From a Strider. If Bro could hear you he’d probably send you up to the roof to beat the shit out of you in a strife.

The last thing you want to think of is Bro right now, or John for that matter. It would just make you cry more.

Instead you find yourself reaching onto your nightstand for your phone, opening the contacts, and scrolling down to the letter K.


	5. Dave: Be The Guy You Caught Your Boyfriend Cheating With But In The Past

It wasn’t long before the two of you arrive at Jake’s apartment. You still felt smashed, and more than a little awkward now due to the car ride. Jake had put his hand on your leg. You were mad at yourself for not saying anything.

He half carries you up the steps to his place, fumbling with the keys under your weight.

“Take another year why don’tcha.”

He drops them at your words and bends to pick them up without thinking. You smack your head on the door as you both go tumbling down.

“Ow.”                                    

Jake sheepishly looks up at you. Somehow you’d managed to pin him beneath you.

“S-sorry, chum.” He blushes.

You want to roll your eyes but you can’t. Goddammit it’s cute.

“It’s kay dude.”

You pull yourself up using the doorframe and lean against it. He pushes off the ground with keys in hand and manages to get the right one into the lock with a click. A second later and he’s helping you into the apartment, depositing you on the couch to run over to his fridge and grab a six-pack.

“Prepared are we?” You try to force yourself to grin.

He trips over himself on his way back over to you.

“You always taught me to be.” He laughs back.

It sounds like bells. Like kind of deep bells with an English accent.

Jake hands you a beer and takes a seat next to you.

“Thanks.” You mumble.

“Yep.” He nods.

It’s quiet after that. You’re not really sure what to say as you twist off the cap to your drink. He doesn’t seem to be sure either and does the same.

You sigh and take a swig.

A beer later and he’s talking about how crazy Jane could get, how paranoid she’d be that he was going to go back to you. You wince, but keep listening. The alcohol numbing your mind further.

One more and he’s half on top of you, ranting about how she just ran off with Roxy before even saying her feelings had changed. Jake got sad then, but you weren’t sure how to comfort him.

At the end of the pack he’s apologizing to you for doing the same thing to you.

You cringe.

He just keeps going on and on and fucking on about how sorry he felt and how much he missed you and how he could never message you because he wouldn’t want Jane to find out about it.

Your drinks stop numbing you to your surroundings, and you stand up, pushing him and his groping hands off of you. He looks confused.

“Jake just go fuck yourself alright?” You sound calm, much calmer than how you’re feeling. You clench your fists.

“W-hat?” He pushes himself into a seating position.

“Ten years and you couldn’t talk to me once? I TRIED to message you! You could’ve said something, anything!” You’re yelling now

“I just said Jane would’ve seen!” He stands up to try and match your height.

“So what it was fine to just leave me hanging and think about me every day behind your girlfriend’s back?”

“Don’t say it like that! I was trying to apologize!”

“YOU WALKED OUT. At least Jane had the decency to tell you eventually herself! I had to hear it from Roxy that you were with Jane! Do you know how that made me feel? You just fucking went on a college tour and never came back! Who the fuck does that?!”

“I said I was sorry! What more do you want for me? That I wish I could take it all back? That I wasted half of my life with Jane and I should’ve been with you? Dirk we’ve got the time now so why can’t you just get over it?!” He shouts at you.

You deck him. Flat out punch him in the jaw and he goes down, the couch half catching his fall. He grabs for his face and holds the sore spot.

“No we don’t have time now. I’m leaving. Maybe I’ll get over waiting for you when I’m not around such a selfish jackass.”

You turn and storm towards the door.

“Dirk I’m sorry wait I didn’t mean it!” You hear him stumble and stand, tripping over himself in his hurry to catch you.

You don’t move to look behind you, or even shut the door. You just walk out and leave him there like he did to you all those years before.

* * *

 

You take the bus back to your apartment, openly crying in front of strangers. It’s not too long before your alone with yourself and have to actually face what you just did. You look at your hand. Your knuckles are covered in blood. Your own and his.

You lean into your palms and wait for your stop.

* * *

 

John questions you when you walk in the apartment. You don’t want to see him right now. You try to ignore him and fail when you fall onto the futon that he was trying to sleep on.

His face is so close to yours, and he’s so warm. He calls you Dirk, and you flinch. It reminds you of Jake.

You kiss him, stupidly. He kisses back, surprisingly. You aren’t clear on what you’re doing, but you know you shouldn’t be doing it. Eventually he pushes you back and you start to cry again. You realize it’s much worse when you’re not around strangers.

At some point you drift off for an hour before you’re startled awake by your dream. It’d been of Jake’s smiling face when he told you he’d be back in a week and then never had. You grip the back of the futon and move backwards. John’s craning his neck over the back, dead asleep.

Standing you take off your clothes that smell like beer and climb back on. You’d go to your own room to sleep, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave John alone on the couch. Or really couldn’t bear to be alone with your thoughts and what’d happened with Jake.

You move John so he’s lying down and lay next to him, covering up in one of the blankets so when he wakes up he won’t be so shocked you’re naked. It’s just how you have to sleep, and if you can’t sleep by yourself tonight then it’s what has to happen.

You drift off in your still partially inebriated state.

\--

When you wake up this time it’s morning. Dave is yelling something at John and your head hurts. You think to cover yourself up.

Dave tells John to leave and runs off to his room like an ass.

John looks like he’s probably going to cry while he picks up his clothes and slips them back on.

He’s behind the futon when you speak. “Hey.”

He glances at you before pulling on his pants. “Hey.”

“He’s just being a loser. I’ll explain it to him, what happened that is.”

“Yeah, alright.” His voice cracks and he rubs his eyes before putting on his glasses.

“What’s with everyone crying so much lately? It’s pretty ridiculous if I say so myself.”

He smiles at you. “Yeah but I’m pretty sure you win that contest bro. You were bawling like a baby last night.”

“Oh shit, was I?” Everything floods back to you at once and you remember everything that happened with Jake along with your random make-out with John. “Fuck I’m sorry about all that. I was drunk.” His face falls a bit.

“It’s cool, really.”

You’re pretty sure this is the longest conversation you’ve ever had with him.

“’Kay.”

You turn back around and stare at the TV. John’s still not moving from where he stands.

“I guess I’ll see you later then.”

“Yep.”

“Well, bye.” You hear him head for the door.

“Bye.” You half-wave in that direction.

He shuts the door on his way out.

You decide to talk to Dave later. For now you’re going to burry your face into the futon and scream at the universe because you fucked shit up with Jake even though it was his fault and then you made out with your brother’s boyfriend.

For some reason, the Jake bit doesn’t bother you as much. You’re sort of glad you got to say what you’d wanted after so long of keeping it bottled up. Roxy would be so proud. She’d always wanted you to tear him a new one. You’d have to tell her later.

The other bit confused you though. You couldn’t stop thinking about how soft John’s mouth was and how he felt pressed against you. It was more than a little wrong and you knew that, but you just couldn’t help it. John was so… great.

You roll onto your back and stare at the ceiling.

“Uh oh.”


End file.
